


Underwater

by PeriPeriwinkle



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Friendship, Kinloch Hold, Mage issues, and some comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6554989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeriPeriwinkle/pseuds/PeriPeriwinkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that he’s back it feels like he’s drowning, suffocating, the thick brick walls closing in on him like waves crashing over his body, filling his nose and mouth until he’s dizzy with the need to break free.</p><p>Until <i>he</i> shows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underwater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kama/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Kama!!! I hope you like this short one-shot, and that you have a great day ♡♡♡ you deserve it! ^ _ ^

He’s sitting on his bed, knees drawn to his chest, just a few hours after being dumped back in the circle after being recaptured.

His fourth escape attempt.

To him, the thirty days he spent away from Kinloch Hold felt like life had _meaning_ again, the outside air fresh and cool in his lungs, so unlike the tower’s stale and mouldy atmosphere. This time Anders foolishly thought that, despite his phylactery, he wouldn't be found this time, _c_ _ouldn’t,_ but eventually he was, like he always is. And now that he’s back it feels like he’s _drowning_ , suffocating, the thick brick walls closing in on him like waves crashing over his body, filling his nose and mouth until he’s dizzy with the need to break free. It hurts, but still he tries not to cry, not because he’s too old to do it, but because he knows the other apprentices and the older Templars will laugh and sneer at him if he does.

Anders digs his fingers into his arms and bites his bottom lip as hard as he can to keep from screaming his throat raw, from breaking something, tearing the sheets off the beds and ripping them with his bare hands. He holds back his rage with bare teeth and nails and flesh and tries his hardest to keep it all in and not let it control him, so he bites, bites, _bites_ , and just as he feels the tangy taste of blood in his tongue, a soft voice drives him away from his thoughts.

“Why do you hate it here so much?”

Anders looks up sharply at the older brunette looking down at him, not with pity or mockery, but with serenity.

“Why don’t _you?_ ” He asks instead, rebutting the question and looking away in the hopes that his harsh tone will get him to leave. Much to Anders’ dismay though, the boy steps up instead and sits on the bed next to him, right on Anders’ field of vision. He glares, but the boy doesn’t see it; his shoulders raise in a shrug in reply to the previous question, eyes fixed straight at the wall before him.

“A waste of energy, I think. Energy I could be spending learning, getting better, working towards my Harrowing, you know?”

“Pf, _yeah_ ,” Anders spits out, like the words are vile in his mouth. “And then when your Harrowing comes and the Templars decide you’re not worth the effort, they’ll go and kill you anyway and tell anyone that asks that you failed it, so _what’s the fucking point?_ ”

The boy is silent for a minute or two, still looking at the dorm’s walls like he’s lost deep in thought, and Anders, not really knowing what else to do, simply waits. Admittedly, he only snapped in a petty wish to pick up a fight with this boy who he thought for certain was just trying to annoy him, and when he seriously considers his cruel words instead it makes Anders hesitate. When the boy finally speaks again, it’s in a barely above breath whisper.

“The point is to live, I think. Not to let them win. Fight back. Show them we’re not the monsters they think we are. _Prove them wrong_. I know it’s not what’s _right_ , but at least it’s _something_.”

Anders, in awe, stares at the older boy, and finds that he has no reply to that, his voice stuck in the back of his throat. He sounds so... _sad_ , so melancholic. Anders remembers him then, the new kid who came in kicking and screaming as he tried to pry away from the Templars’ hold about six months ago, taken under Wynne’s wings not long after his prowess and incredible ease and expertise in healing magic was discovered. He must’ve been older than Anders when the Templars took him, must’ve had a family and a life before Kinloch Hold too, a life that was forcefully taken from him. Taken from all of them.

The boy finally seems to snap out of his thoughts and looks back at Anders, offering a small smile.

“Do you mind if I call you Anders, or do you prefer something else?”

“Anders is fine,” he replies, and the boy nods and extends his hand forward. Tentatively, Anders shakes it, clenching his fingers around it nervously – _always make sure to leave a good first impression, and a strong handshake is a sign of a strong, confident man_ , his father used to say – and the boy’s smile broadens, fingers tightening around Anders’ hand in response. It makes something inside Anders’ chest stir, warm and flutterly, and it’s like his head has broken the water’s surface.

“Nice to meet you, Anders. I’m Karl.” He says, and Anders finds that, for the first time since he’s returned to the circle, he can _breathe_.


End file.
